


Baby Steps

by BWolf_20



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Baby Rick Grimes, Broken Rick Grimes, Carl Grimes as a Parent, Conflicted Carl Grimes, Diapers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mental Breakdown, Non-Sexual Age Play, Protective Carl Grimes, Rick Grimes Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-26 18:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13863099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BWolf_20/pseuds/BWolf_20
Summary: The night the Saviors terrorized them in the woods traumatized Rick so horribly that he actually regressed to that of a small child. Carl has found himself playing father to his own father and wonders if he'll ever recover. Either way, he'll do what he must to comfort and care for his dad even if it means treating him like a baby.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The last thing I need to do is start another fic, but I'm so full of crazy ideas I had to get this one out :D

“Dad…DAD!”

Carl wasn’t sure how long he’d been calling him. All he knew was that he had gone on too long just standing there staring at the RV. His eyes were wide and red, and his face was pale. There was even a slight shake to his hands. Carl knew he’d never forget that look so long as his father kept having it.

He put his hands on his arm, making his dad flinch.

“Dad, it’s okay,” Carl said quietly.

Rick turned to him, staring as though not really seeing his son by his side. Carl knew, and he fought against the sickening feel of it.

“It’s okay. You’re safe, we’re safe.”

It wasn’t true. Negan had made his demands clear after killing two of them. The man would be coming back in a couple of weeks, and Carl could only imagine what else they could do if the Saviors didn’t live up to their word on not hurting them. All they had to do was serve. Give them what they wanted, but the Saviors’ behavior could change on a dime. What if Negan decided to bash in another’s skull just for the hell of it?  
Rick blinked and dropped his eyes down to the hands that held his arm. Slowly he faced his son and took ahold of his left arm. Gently, he ran his fingers up and down it as if it was the most precious thing in the world. Carl wanted to pull away, but didn’t. He knew his dad was imagining that moment when Negan had ordered him to cut off his arm, so Carl allowed his father this action.

The sound of footsteps stopping caught Carl’s attention, and he looked around to see Michonne standing off to the side looking quite concerned. Carl held up a hand and mouthed that it was okay. He turned to his dad again. He was still looking down at his arm with a heartbroken expression. He could see a slight throb in his throat as if he was trying to form words, but couldn’t.

“Dad,” Carl began softly. He rested his hand on his, making Rick stop his moving fingers. “It’s okay. You didn’t do it. You didn’t have to do it. I’m alright. We’re alright.”

He watched his dad’s lip tremble as he met his eyes.

“Carl,” he gasped. 

The tone of his voice almost made him tear up. He placed his hand on his shoulder and maneuvered him away from the RV.

“Come on. Let’s get something to eat.”

Rick let his son steer him away from the bloody reminder of that night. He hadn’t really heard what his son had said, not when his thoughts were on the splashes of blood flying from Glenn’s head as a madman smashed his bat into it; not when he imagined a barb wired bat cracking against everyone’s skull.

Carl met Michonne’s eyes as he walked past her while guiding his father along. Without exchanging any words, he knew she was wondering the same thing as himself. Would his dad ever recover?

 

It had been six days since his dad was stuck in this haunted state. He had basically become a walker, going through the motions of existing as an empty shell that would wander up to the RV, where he would stare at it for hours if he was allowed. People talked to him. Tried to tell him none of what happened was his fault, but the words never reached him.

The man was all but silent now with the only words ever being names, like Abraham, Glenn, Daryl…and Carl.

“We have to get the Hilltop doctor to see Rick,” Michonne had said after the third day. 

She, along with Aaron, Carl, and Gabriel had been standing around the couch looking down at Rick who was lying wide-eyed upon it, completely unaware that they were there. Carl thought he looked dead.

“He’s helping Maggie,” Carl reminded her. “But, we can bring him here.”

“What about the Saviors?” Gabriel had said. “What if…”

He had trailed off as Rick made noises of distress at the mention of Saviors and started to tremble. Michonne had knelt down and started running her hand over his head.

“It’s okay Rick, ssshhh, it’s okay.”

Carl had motioned for Gabriel and Aaron to move into the kitchen. His dad couldn’t take the mention of Saviors or Negan at this point.

“If we’re careful, we’ll be fine going out there,” Carl said in response to the question. 

“Yeah,” Aaron agreed. “I’ll go. No one else has to risk their lives.”

Carl saw how scared he was of the idea, and he certainly didn’t want Aaron to risk his life only to end up dead. How would Eric feel about it?

“I’ll go. It should be me,” Carl stated. 

“No.”

“He’s my dad.”

“Which is why you should stay here with him. I’ll go.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Gabriel. 

Carl had looked between the two, not liking being told to stay behind. He was capable of handling himself, especially since that night. But then he heard the whine stem from his dad’s lips and looked in his direction.

“Alright, I’ll stay.”

 

Aaron and Gabriel had managed to retrieve the doctor safely. Carl had watched him go through the check-up process as his dad sat propped up on the bed in the medical unit. He looked like a miserable husk whose soul had departed.

“Rick, can you hear me?” asked Dr. Carson. “Rick?” 

He only gave slow blinks in response and nothing more. Carl had wandered over and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Dad?”

His dad had looked at him then, appearing surprised to see him.

“Carl?” He grabbed his son’s hand and kissed it repeatedly. “Carl.”

His eyes started to well up as his body shook.

“Carl…d-d-don’t…S-saviors…” He shut his eyes tight and choked as he pulled his son’s hand against his cheek. “Glenn…Abraham…n-n…Carl…”

Carl didn’t realize tears had fallen down his cheeks until his dad became blurry in his eyes. He turned on the spot, trying to hurry away from the sight of the broken man. The man on the bed gave a cry. 

That wasn’t his father. His father had always been strong, was always ready to take command. The man on the bed wasn't him. He couldn’t look at that man on the bed who couldn’t even express himself properly.

Michonne had grabbed him and pulled him into her arms before he could flee the room.

“It’s okay Carl. Your dad, he’ll be alright...he'll be alright.”

Carl had started to cry. He heard his dad give a wail and the doctor trying to calm him. How could his dad ever be alright? Negan had broken him. He had basically killed his father that night. 

“He’s gone through loss before, he’ll pull through.”

“Not like this,” he argued. “Not like this.”

Michonne pulled him away and looked him in the eye.

“He will. I promise. We’ll get him back. He’s tougher than that.”

But Carl didn’t think so. This felt different. 

It was true his dad had gone through a lot of shit and had found a way to come back from it, but now it felt like it was too much. His dad had reached his breaking point when it had come to that night. Something about his dad’s behavior just made him feel sure of it.

There had been nothing the doctor could do. All he could say was that this was something more suited for a therapist and that he had no experience in that area. Their only hope was to keep trying to break through. On top of that he suggested that Rick take a long vacation from his leadership role which couldn’t be clearer to Carl. For the sake of his dad, he wanted to take over, but Michonne had insisted she oversee things for a while. Again it was pointed out that he needed to be by his father’s side. He wanted to be, but it was so hard and revolting seeing him like that. How could they expect him to be there for him? What was he supposed to do?

It made him feel like a lost little kid and he hated it as much as he hated what was happening. He had to be a man now more than ever, and he didn’t know if he could pull it off. Then again, the leadership role required him to be a man, so his feelings on Michonne leading lessened.

 

Carl watched his dad stuff a few chips into his mouth as he stared down. He was so zoned out he could have been eating leaves and wouldn’t even realize it. Carl sighed and looked into the living room where Judith was seated on the floor playing with her blocks. It was up to him now to care for her needs, though he still had Michonne to lend him a hand in that area. And while he never had a problem looking after his sister, it almost felt stressful now that the weight of the Saviors was upon them. Michonne and the rest had advised him not to worry about the matter, but he couldn’t help it. What would they do if Negan wasn’t satisfied with the amount they gathered? More importantly how would his dad react when Negan came? He could just see his dad shaking and muttering the names, causing Negan and his men to laugh. Would Negan find it fitting to put him out of his misery considering how broken he was?

“C-c-Carl.”

He was getting worse. Rick was staring at the cup of water before him as he worked his hands to pick it up.

“It’s okay dad.”

Shakily he lifted it, but then it slipped from his hands and tumbled to the floor, spilling water everywhere. Rick stared at it with a trembling lip. Carl stood and patted his shoulder.

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it. The floor needed to be cleaned anyways.”

As he moved to get a towel, he noticed his dad’s eyes still hadn’t left the spill. To Rick it wasn’t water spreading across that floor, it was blood. He opened his mouth several times as if to tell his son this, but words escaped him just as before.

“Dad, can you go in the living room? Keep an eye on Judith for me.” 

He needed his dad away from the accident in order to calm him down. His face scrunched up almost like a toddler ready to cry, but after a moment he stood and left the kitchen. Carl shut his eye momentarily before proceeding to wipe up the water.

When he was done, he filled his dad’s cup and headed into the living room with it. There he found him curled up in a corner of the couch which was an odd position in itself for his dad, but what was odder was the fact that he was cuddling Judith’s stuffed bunny to his chest. 

Carl faced him dead on and just stared. His dad was keeping his eyes downward, but he looked less stressed.

“Dad.” He waited for him to meet his eyes which he did, slowly. “Here.”

Carl held out the cup of water, but he didn’t take it. Instead he cuddled into the stuffed bunny further like a child.

“n-No…don’t wan it.”

Carl was stunned. It had been the first time in six days that he’d said a sentence, but the way he said it was so unlike himself. He had sounded so small and afraid. 

He averted his eyes again.

“Dad?” He didn’t know what to say.

“Dad,” Rick mimicked in response, as if confused by the word. The look he was giving Carl now was desperate. “D-dad, da…dad-dy…daddy, wan daddy.”

Now he was alarmed. Carl took a step back and nearly dropped the cup out of his hand. His dad just kept muttering it over and over again as he clung to the toy. 

“Daddy…daddy…wan daddy.”

His grandpa wasn’t here for this, so Carl was at a loss as to why his dad would suddenly need him. 

“Dad, grandpa’s not here, remember?” He set the cup down slowly as if any sudden movement might cause him to go ballistic. He quietly wandered to the couch and settled next to him. “It’s just us. Me, your son, and Judith. Remember?”

Rick scrunched up his face again as his eyes became teary.

“Wan daddy.” He ended it with a sniffle.

Carl looked at the door. He needed to fetch Michonne or anyone right away, but he was frightened of leaving him alone. The last thing he wanted to do was bring him to help. His dad didn’t deserve to be seen like this, especially when morale was already so low. 

He gently touched his shoulder which made him flinch. Rick turned to face him, looking like a scared little boy.

“It’s alright dad.” 

He didn’t seem to understand. In fact his eyes widened briefly in fear before they dropped and he started muttering again. 

“Daddy…daddy…daddy.”

“It’s alright…Rick.” 

Rick looked at him with something of hope in his eyes. Carl bit his lip, not certain this was the right approach at all. 

“Da-daddy?”

“Daddy’s, right here.”

The tears followed as Rick snuggled into his shoulder. All Carl could do was pat his back, but he did so mechanically as he just could not process what was happening.

“It’s okay…it’s okay.”

“Daddy,” he muttered, sounding more childlike than ever.

Carl looked down at Judith who was watching them, not having a clue of what was going on, and he was thankful for it.


	2. Chapter 2

Carl had sat there gently patting his father’s back until he heard the soft sounds of snoring. He glanced down and saw that his eyes were shut as he had drifted off into what he hoped was a pleasant sleep. If it weren’t for the bunny that had drooped into his lap, he would not have believed what had transpired earlier. 

His dad had become a child before his eyes. A child! He had called him daddy, and Carl had accepted it. This wasn’t the thing to do. He needed help, but in this world there was only so much help one could get.  
As slowly as possible, he lifted his dad off his shoulders as he maneuvered himself to his feet. His dad barely stirred as he rested him down on the cushions. After that he just stood there staring at him. Somehow he didn’t look like his father then…and it unnerved him.

Carl turned to Judith and lifted her into his arms.

“Dad’s going be okay,” he promised her as he rubbed circles into her back. She was looking down at her dad and even reached out a chubby little hand for him. “He’s going to be okay. We all are.”

It felt like a lie, but he chose to believe it anyway because right now he was scared to death. They couldn’t afford to lose their father; not like this.

 

Carl had not wanted to leave him alone in the house. He couldn’t help imagining what he’d do if he woke and didn’t find him there. 

Judith gave a little whine and he secured her better against his hip.

“Michonne!”

He practically ran to her when she came into view.

“Carl? What’s wrong?” Her voice was heavy with concern. He imagined he might have looked as haunted as his dad.

“It’s dad,” he answered hurriedly. He could feel his heart pounding painfully. “He’s…something’s wrong with him. He’s acting like…you have to come.”

“Carl, slow down. I can’t understand-”

“Just come!”

He turned on his heel as he hurried back to the house. 

 

Rick was still sleeping when he returned. Carl couldn’t help taking in how peaceful he looked when before, his soft features were always pulled into a harsh frown. The only thing that had changed to make him so was his sudden childlike behavior.

“Carl, what’s going on?” Michonne asked quietly so as not to wake him.

He set Judith back onto the floor without taking his eyes off his dad. Uncertainty was creeping into him now, making him question whether he’d really experienced what he thought he had moments ago.

“I know I wasn’t imagining it.” 

“Imagining what?”

Carl motioned her into the kitchen then tossed a wary look at the couch.

“Dad. He was, acting like a child.”

There was no other way to explain it. He expected the look she was giving him now, even the shake of the head that indicated confusion.

“Carl…”

“It’s true. He was…”

The sounds of distress reached Carl so he fell silent, and watched his dad rise. He watched him raise a balled fist to rub the sleep out of an eye, then he gazed around himself. Michonne started to go to him, but Carl stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. His dad’s stress filled whines shifted into a barely audible whimper upon realizing that he was practically alone. It did not matter that Judith was there on the floor before him.

“Da..daddy?”

Carl almost breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t crazy afterall, but still, it was highly worrying. Michonne was simply confused. Carl could only gaze back at her before wandering over to his dad. The minute he made eye contact with Carl, the wide eyes filled with relief. Even the corners of his lips rose into a near smile which was something that had been absent ever since that night.

“Daddy,” he said, sounding pleased. He reached out his arms in a way that implied he wanted to be lifted up. Carl wondered if he had caught him lifting up Judith and imagined he could do the same for him.

“Rick? What’s going on?” Michonne asked.

He flashed his eyes to her and right away his lower lip began to tremble. He dropped his arms and curled back into the couch as he stared back at her. Carl could see he was on the verge of shaking.

“No, Rick, it’s okay,” Carl began as he settled down next to him and proceeded to pull him into a comforting embrace. “It’s just Michonne. You remember Michonne. She’s…our friend.”

How could he explain to a man that appeared to have the mindset of a child that she was his lover? He couldn’t afford to add confusion.

“Mish…Misho?” 

He looked to Carl for confirmation. Carl wondered if he should even bother correcting his pronunciation. What mattered more was getting his dad not to feel threatened by her.

“That’s right. Mish-, uh maybe it’s better to call her Mish. But she’s our friend.”

Some recognition was shown in his eyes as Rick relaxed into Carl’s embrace. 

“Mish our fwend daddy.”

Michonne stood there like a gawking statue, unable to comprehend. Carl met her eyes with an air of embarrassment, but mostly fear. He could tell she was at a loss, but she was the only adult he fully trusted with this. Michonne was always the next person who knew what to do. She was always so strong and capable, and he could feel that so much more when he was starting to feel himself crumble. He was the kid, and she was the adult. She would tell him how to fix his dad.

“What do I do?” he pleaded. 

Nothing but silence followed for a long time. Slowly she crouched so she could see Rick eye to eye. 

“Rick…why are you…what’s happening to you?”

“Mish?”

The fact that he couldn’t understand why she suddenly broke into tears showed Carl just how bad off his father currently was, and for that he held him tighter.

 

Carl laid in bed, eyes wide open as he mulled over the day. He had been hoping for some instant fix; for Michonne to find the right words to say to knock him out of it. Sadly there were no words to be said, so the only plan they had was to contact the doctor again. In the meantime his dad’s situation was a secret between them.

He felt no hope at the idea of Carson. For the rest of the day, Rick had stayed wrapped up in his childlike mentality, using broken words and snuggling into Judith’s toy. Carl had stood by and watched Michonne spend an hour reminding him of who he was supposed to be and how he was supposed to behave, but all it did was confuse him to the point where he actually started crying. It hadn’t been like the time he’d cried when Negan had ordered him to cut Carl's arm. His face had gone red and he kept wiping the tears away in a childlike fashion. It was at that point that he knew Michonne truly understood. His dad, her lover, was gone for the moment. 

Carl blinked back possible tears as he stared at the wall.

The sound of shuffling footsteps made its way into his room, but he didn’t stir until he heard a sorrowful sniffle. He rolled over and saw his dad standing by his bed with his head bowed and hands cupping his flushed cheeks. 

“Daddy,” he said quietly. He didn’t even meet Carl’s eyes.

Carl hesitated before moving into a seated position on the bed. It was still unnerving to be referred to as ‘daddy’.

“What’s wrong?” 

“I…” His hands flew up to cover his eyes as if ashamed. “I…wet da bed.”

The tears started to flow, making Carl realize how hard it must have been for him to admit such a thing aloud. As far as he could remember, he himself had never wet the bed as a kid, but had he, he didn’t think he’d tell anyone.

“Oh. That’s, that’s okay Rick. Don’t cry, we can fix this.” 

Rick peeked between his fingers and caught Carl’s extended hand. After a couple of sniffles, he grabbed it and allowed him to lead him out of the room. Carl thought it best to take him to Michonne who was occupying the couch since it was highly inappropriate for her to share a bed with Rick now.

“No…no.” Rick suddenly came to a halt.

Carl turned to him. The man was shaking his head before pausing to glance up at their destination. Carl followed his gaze and caught on to the problem.

“It’s okay. Michonne will understand. I just need her help.”

“No…no daddy, pwease,” he begged. 

The lip was trembling, and the eyes were getting watery. Carl’s heart ached at the sight. He looked longingly at Michonne, feeling this was a matter better suited for someone much older than himself. He’d once heard that bed-wetting was serious, which could be the case for his dad considering the stress, or an indicator that his mental state required him to use diapers which was a frightening thought. 

“Alright, alright we won’t tell her. Daddy will take care of it.”

This earned him a smile from his dad.

Carl hadn’t thought about any of it as he pulled the sheets off then helped his dad clean up in the bathroom. He just kept telling himself not to think of him as his dad, which was in a way true considering the fact that Rick hadn’t appeared awkward by his son cleaning him below the waist. When he was done, he helped him into some loose boxers and attempted to lure him back to his bed.

“Wan sleep wit daddy,” he whined. 

Carl gave a sigh, but when he turned to his dad he smiled.

“Alright. But just for tonight.”

For the rest of the night, Rick stayed curled up on the bed with Carl watching over him. When he had finally drifted off, Carl quietly slipped onto the floor, not feeling at all comfortable with sharing the bed.

 

As Carl had suspected, the visit from the doctor did not offer any hope. Instead it further distressed the situation as Rick immediately started wailing at the sight of him. 

“Some part of him must recognize me, or at least recognize me as a doctor,” said Carson as he watched Carl trying to shush him into calmness.

“I doubt every kid hates the doctor this much,” said Carl, before turning his attention back to his dad. “It’s okay Rick, it’s okay. He just wants to check you out, and it won’t hurt. I promise.”

His dad wasn’t listening however.

“Maybe as a young kid Rick hated the doctor,” Carson guessed. 

He gave a sigh and stood back from the scene. Carl traded a look with Michoone, both already sensing that Carson didn’t have a clue on how to handle this case.

“I’m sorry to have to keep telling you this,” he announced, “but I just, don’t know how to help him.”

“I figured,” Carl muttered. The tone came out more aggressive than he intended. Then again, he barely realized how angry he was becoming. “But, we don’t have anyone else we can turn to. You were it.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized.

“Can’t you just give him something? Anything!” he begged, unaware that his raised tones were upsetting Rick even more.

“Carl,” Michonne said softly. She laid a hand on his shoulder. 

As his dad cried in his ear, the truth was becoming just as loud. He turned to the crying man who he couldn’t recognize nor understand, and he cursed him for becoming like this; cursed him for not being strong enough to fight this; cursed him for what it was doing to _him_.

Without realizing it, he was glaring at his dad.

“Come back to me dad, please!” he cried. “Snap out of it! This isn’t you, it can’t be. You’re stronger than this.”

“Carl,” Michonne tried. She moved in to pull him away as the emotions waged war inside him. Tears of anger poured while Rick kept crying.

“Dad, wake up...wake up!” he begged in a broken voice. “DAD…DAD!!!”

 

“This is how it’s going to be now, isn’t it?” 

He looked at Michonne who was sitting across from him at the kitchen table before turning his gaze to the living room. His dad was currently lying on his stomach on the living room floor as he drew pictures with Judith’s crayons. Six days had passed where his father was now reduced to a shirt and a makeshift diaper formed from abandoned white bed sheets, done so because his father was still reduced in his mental state.  
Rick was oblivious to the worried looks as he happily sucked on a spare pacifier they had given him to keep him calm. 

Carl felt her fingers close around his hand. He forced his eyes away from his dad and looked at her.

“I don’t want to believe it is, but either way you’re not alone in this,” she promised. “Your dad’s not alone. All we can do, is look out for him and keep him safe.”

Carl squeezed her hand back and bit his lip.

“That’s all I want to do.”

He rested his head down on his arm, hating the feel of his twisting heart. He just couldn’t imagine not having his dad back. It was still hard to believe that he had broken so far down.

“Daddy?”

Carl looked up to see Rick giving him a worried look as he rocked on his feet with his hands behind his back. Carl wiped a tear that had fallen down his cheek and forced a smile.

“What is it Rick?”

He hesitated before lifting a paper he had hidden behind his back. On it he saw, depicted in an array of colors, a crude drawing of them together. Carl saw his drawn image smiling as he held onto the smiling drawn image of his dad.

“Wike it daddy?”

Carl felt like bursting into tears, but he held back.

“Of course.” He stared into his dad’s eyes. Even if he was different now, he would never lose his love for him, nor his respect. “Da…I mean Rick, I’m so proud of you. I want you to remember that okay. And…I love you, so much.”

Rick beamed and hurried back into the living room to make more drawings.


	3. Chapter 3

He looked down at his dad. His head was lying in his lap as he suckled on the bottle of warm milk. Carl tightened his grip as he held the bottle. He stared down at his dad who was looking up at him with calmness in his eyes. Carl liked the calm and even smiled at it, but there was still the matter of his mind. 

A month had passed, and the man that he had known, the adult version of Rick Grimes, had not come back. He and Michonne had to handle the baby version of him. When they couldn’t hide the secret from the curious community, they were left to reveal that Rick had suffered a mental breakdown, though Carl refused to let them see what kind. He couldn’t imagine the looks they’d give his dad, nor himself. He assumed some might express the idea that he should be put down so he wouldn’t have to suffer his infantile state.

Rick didn’t seem to be suffering as far as Carl could tell. Rick was…just fine. He was happy, which was something he couldn’t say before his brain adopted an alternate way to cope from the trauma. Of course he’d prefer to truly have him back, but if it meant he would return as an empty shell then he couldn’t help feeling that this was the better result.

Rick squirmed and made little whines.

“Full?” Carl asked.

“Daddy?”

It had become much easier to accept the title.

“Yeah?”

“Is Mish comin ova to pway?”

Carl smiled and brushed his hand through his hair. He knew there were days when Michonne would cry, but she always smiled at Rick and kept a brave face in place. If Rick continued as he was, he was sure there would be a day when she would stop crying and come to accept him as he was now.

“You bet. We’re going to make cookies and paint, and anything else you want.”

The way his face lit up brought great warmth in Carl’s heart. Sometimes it brought back memories where it was just them together, doing the average father and son things. The thought that it would be reversed now made the smile on his face flicker.

“And Judy pways too.”

Carl looked over at the crib where his sister was sleeping on her side. Naturally they couldn’t explain that she was his daughter, so all they could have him assume was that she was his sister.

“Yeah. When she wakes up from her nap.” He continued to brush his hair as he recalled his dad doing it to him when he’d been young and sick. “Which reminds me, you need a nap too before Mish comes over.”

Rick pouted and Carl quietly chuckled. 

“I’m not sweepy daddy.”

“You will be.”

Another thirty minutes of remaining as they were, proved Carl right. Rick’s eyes started to flutter closed. The smile on Carl’s face faltered as he watched him sleep. He drifted his gaze downward along his father’s body which was dressed in a simple blue shirt, and his makeshift diapers. Not only did runs consist of finding enough supplies to serve the Saviors, but now it consisted of tracking down any baby items for Rick, including adult diapers. Groups naturally assumed the baby items were for Judith, and none questioned the need for adult diapers. 

He still wondered how they’d handle the Saviors, especially without his dad. Though Michonne was great leading the troop, he could feel the sense of loss in everyone for not seeing Rick taking a stand and encouraging them with strong words. They would have to find a way to beat the Saviors without him. On top of that, Carl was determined to protect his dad from Negan. If the man ever saw what he’d done to his dad…

“C-carl.”

Carl’s eyes widened at his name drifting from his father’s lips. His eyes were still closed, indicating he was simply talking in his sleep. But Carl’s heart had fluttered.

“Dad?” 

Rick squirmed a little and started frowning as a troubled look crossed his features.

“Carl…Ca…c…da…”

He twisted more as if he was fighting something terrible. The struggle in his voice was worrying enough. 

Carl swallowed hard and ran a hand down his cheek. Something about his behavior now suggested that his dad was trying to break through from the toddler mindset. Something about it made him feel that it was painful; that it was too much.

His dad didn’t deserve any more pain. He’d been through enough. All Carl wanted for him now was peace and happiness.

Feeling a similar weight of struggle, Carl released a breath and spoke.

“Dad, come on.”

His dad could come back. He could push through that toddler brain and be his dad again. He could be the Rick Grimes that everyone knew and admired.

Rick was starting to tremble, and his words were catching worse in his throat. His moans turned into sorrowful cries. Carl just couldn’t take it.

“Rick…it’s alright.” A tear ran down his cheek. “It’s alright. Daddy’s here.”

He calmed almost immediately. 

“Da…daddy,” he sighed. 

“Yes.”

He leaned over and kissed his forehead, making him relax even more.

Carl leaned back and wiped the tear away. Maybe if he had waited, his dad would have come back. Maybe if he let him struggle long enough, his baby days would be over.

Or maybe he would have broken beyond repair.

Carl didn’t know. All he knew was that it was now his job to look out for his dad no matter the state. He’d wait patiently for his dad to truly surface. Until then, they would carry on just as they were now, and he didn’t mind that at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was going to add more and even include Negan reacting to Rick's new mentality. Currently I have other writing projects taking my time and I didn't want to end up neglecting this. But also I like the idea of keeping it contained around Carl and Rick. Maybe in the future there could be more with a sequel, however I'd love to see other Rick age-play fics. I don't know if there's any others besides this one.   
> Anyways, glad you enjoyed :)

**Author's Note:**

> I've only seen a small number of age-play 'Walking Dead' fics on here, but I've never seen one with Rick in the role of a baby. But this one is happening due to his mental breakdown of Negan's torture. I don't know much about regression, so it's fashioned in the way I imagine Rick might break down. I love Rick and Carl's relationship, and I love the idea of Carl caring for his father. Since I'm currently wrapping up an age-play fic in the Avenger's fandom, I've kind of had age-play on the brain so that basically made this story come to life.  
> I figure this might be a three-shot, at the most a five-shot in the end. So if you enjoy I'll definitely keep this going :D


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